The western part of the city is often home to the poorer residents. Here there is a grunginess that permeates the town from the graffiti on the once cleaned brick buildings to the broken and unmaintained architecture. Crime runs high within the western half of town, making it the home of supernatural gangs of illicit activities. Such activities are rarely reported, however, and most residents are distrustful of individual's of authorities, and often let the powerful supernatural beings sort things out amongst themselves. Be careful wandering the Western streets after the sun falls.
Black Market
Cull & Pistol
Noah's Ark
Syn
Just like any city - Sacrosanct is not without it's deep, dark underbelly. Hidden in the graffiti-ridden streets of the West, behind closed warehouse doors, lies the Black Market. Forever moving, it's nearly impossible to find without knowing someone who knows someone. Anything you desire can be brought for a hefty price within the Black Market - be it drugs, weapons, or lives.
Hidden within the dark alleyways of the Western Ward, Cull & Pistol is a dim, often smoky bar. With a small variety of bottled and craft beers, Cull & Pistol is a quaint little neighborhood joint. With its no-frills moto, the dingy bar offers little more than liquor, music from an old jukebox, and a few frequently occupied pool tables.
Bartender Raylin Chike
Resting upon the harbor, Noah's Ark (known simply as The Ark) is a sleek superyacht known both for its fight rings and recent...renovations, of sorts. Accessible from an entrance hidden in the shadows, The Ark is a veritable Were-playground that specializes in fighting tournaments for all creatures great and small. With both singles and doubles tournaments to compete in, the title of Ark Champion is hotly contested amongst the Were population. If anything illegal is going on in the city it's sure to be happening within the back rooms or behind the ring-side bar.
Note: This is a Were only establishment. All other species will be swiftly escorted out.
Home of: Nightshade
Owner Aiden Tetradore
Co-owner Tobias Cain
Bar Manager Mira Ramos
Bartender Henry Tudor
Waitress Carolina Bedford
Within the turbulent industrial district lies this club. The warehouse doesn't look like much on the outside but it provides a memorable experience from the state of the art lighting, offbeat Victorian-inspired artwork, comfortable black leather lounges, and the infamous 'black light' room. There is a wide variety of alcohol that lines the shelves of both of the magical and ordinary variety. It is a common stomping ground for the supernatural who want to let loose and dance the night away to the music that floods the establishment. Humans are most welcome if they dare.
Owner Risque Voth
Manager Darcy Blackjack
Cats Aiden Tetradore
Cats Harlequin Westward
You call and I respond, the sparrow and the song I miss you when you're gone Solarn. That was an interesting name, not one he could say he had heard before. Part of him doubted it was really her name but he felt it wasn't worth the argument to pull the truth from her. She obviously was enjoying toying with him and, frankly, he wasn't really in the mood for it. So he accepted her words at face value, that she would be Solarn. "Miss Solarn." He finished his sentence, repeating her name more to commit to his own memory than for her sake. When she cried out in declaration, jamming her point down his throat even more. Spencer didn't look immediately at the paper, holding her gaze for another moment, before he slowly turned his attention to what she obviously wanted him to acknowledge so desperately. However, rather than immediately read the article, he collected his paper and quietly folded it in half then half again, leaning back against the wall, effectively putting himself out of her reach. He scanned the headline and article she had made a point to draw his attention to, yet for his blasé approach flipped instantly with the next words that left her mouth. Now, she had his attention. She was threatening to burn his store to the ground, which admittedly was terrible for business, but only one type of supernatural being could do that â€" witches. "Come now, Miss Solarn, is that really necessary?" He asked, giving her a disapproving look toward her threat. Spencer lightly tossed the paper on the counter beside him, pushing off the wall as she continued speaking. His lips tugged upward so slightly as she continued to ramble on, Spencer choosing to ignore what seemed like more veiled threats under that false sweetness. "Something you can give me?" He repeated, though it came across more as a statement than a question. From the looks of it, Solarn was very much used to getting her way. Still, she was in his store, on his ground, and really he didn't feel like having yet another person come into his place and stomp all over him. So, even though he was probably pushing her ever closer to that breaking point, he just couldn't help himself. "For starters, you can buy me dinner. Then we can discuss how you're going to conduct business with me from now. If you dislike those terms, Miss Solarn, frankly you can fuck off." He was a businessman, Solarn. Businessmen don't sell from the trunks of their luxury vehicles. They do, however, get testy quickly when that very business is being threatened. single | warlock | notes: xxx |